


Stargazing

by QueenAng



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dating, M/M, Memories, Other, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenAng/pseuds/QueenAng
Summary: The Stars of Vesper-Zeta pass over Cybertron every million years.
Relationships: Megatron/Starscream (Transformers), Starscream/Wheeljack (Transformers)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	Stargazing

The Stars of Vesper-Zeta were phenomenon that had gone unseen by Cybertronians since the great Exodus early in the war.

Wheeljack had read plenty about them, had probably written a few research papers on them while he attended the Academy in Iacon. He had never seen them himself. The stars flitted briefly across the Cybertronian night sky, ephemeral flashes of brilliant white and golden light, every million or so years. Wheeljack had been too young to care about the first, and spent the second and third consumed in either school or work. The last four million years, few bots remained on a devastated Cybertron to see them, and Wheeljack was not among those unlucky ones.

It had been a longstanding tradition in place millions of years before Wheeljack emerged on Cybertron that one take their Conjunx Endura – or prospective mate – to see the stars flicker for a few romantic moments. There was a story behind it; Wheeljack remembered his carrier telling him when he was young, but seven million years had blurred the memory beyond use. No matter; he knew his Star liked astronomy and liked private dates in the night-cycle, so it served as the perfect occasion to do something special, tradition or not.

Wheeljack decided to catch Starscream by surprise, asking an orn in advance. He knew how hectic Starscream’s schedule could get, what with their fledgling society, and he didn’t fault Starscream for choosing work over him. Wheeljack had done the same; falling into recharge in his lab after working joors past his shift, missing date nights but waking up to Starscream curled up beside him, miserably camped out on whatever furniture Wheeljack had passed out on.

Wheeljack caught Starscream by the servo before he could vanish beyond the door. “Watch the stars with me,” he said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

He saw Starscream’s optics cycle. “Excuse me?”

“The Stars of Vesper-Zeta,” Wheeljack said. He took Starscream’s other servo in his as well, sensing the Seeker was on the verge of fleeing. “Let’s watch them together.”

Starscream’s optics darted to the door, then back to Wheeljack. “What would a scientist want with some vague shooting stars?”

“To watch them with my lover.”

Starscream looked away, but not before Wheeljack saw the energon rising to his cheek-plating. “You’re such a sap,” he muttered.

“Do this sap a favor and watch the stars with him?”

Starscream just made a noise. Wheeljack had begun to recognize each of his huffs and smirks and derisive noises, and he pinpointed this one as the one he would make to field off appearing shocked.

“So… is that a yes?” Wheeljack hedged.

A roll of the optics. “Of course it’s a yes.”

Delighted, Wheeljack had instantly set about to create the perfect evening for the two of them. He gathered his supplies, only a tad happy that the senator from Tarn had decided to make a reappearance and keep Starscream engaged during the day cycle. When the day finally came, Starscream was still scarce, making public appearances to celebrate the occasion. While Starscream was occupied with official business – and Rattrap was busy spying on his compatriots per Starscream’s standing orders – Wheeljack snuck up to the roof of their penthouse.

He laid out a grand organic rug from a trading outpost he had visited vorns ago, patterned in grey and red like Starscream’s armor. He had only just managed to secure a large cube of quality Vosnian high grade by trading some armor upgrades to the Vosnian senator. Questions had been asked, of course, and Wheeljack had a feeling the senator had a suspicion about what Wheeljack was doing, but nothing had gone horribly wrong yet, and Wheeljack considered that an automatic success, 100%.

He retreated in time to get back to their hab and detail himself. He figured he had laden Starscream with enough surprises already, so he elected to wait for his shift to end back in their hab.

Starscream found him laid across their couch, in the process of reassembling a holo-vid player he had taken apart out of anxious boredom.

Starscream stared at him wearily for a long moment, and he stared back. Finally, Starscream said, “Please tell me the berth is still intact.”

“It’s.” Wheeljack paused. “The way we left it.”

He seemed to find that an acceptable answer and vanished into their wash-racks. For a mech as considerate of detail as Starscream, it took him a surprisingly short amount of time to get ready. Wheeljack attributed this to centuries of practice.

Wheeljack couldn’t hold back his excitement when Starscream exited, eagerly taking his servo and pulling him towards the door.

Starscream dug his heeled thrusters into the floor. “Are you sure about this?”

Wheeljack couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard some trepidation in Starscream’s voice. “’Course I’m sure,” Wheeljack said. He wrapped Starscream’s servo in both of his. “Been waiting for this since I remembered it.”

He guided Starscream up the private stairs at the back of their penthouse to the roof. Starscream had insisted upon the installation, and regularly used it as a rapid exit. Wheeljack had grown accustomed to the sound of jet engines above his ceiling. Something that once would have caused his spark to leap into his throat now made it settle contentedly in his chassis.

Starscream paused once more when he saw the arrangement Wheeljack had so carefully arranged. Wheeljack filled the silence with animated explanations about how he had come to gather the Vosnian wine, the silver cubes evocative of the traditional ones used in Vosnian Conjunxing ceremonies, the platter of half-baked energon goodies from a recipe that Wheeljack had thought himself incapable of messing up.

He scratched his helm at that last one. “Apparently the iron wasn’t optional,” he said.

Starscream’s wings fluttered at his back, and the next thing Wheeljack knew, he was on his aft with a lap-full of Seeker. Starscream’s grip was constricting and inescapable. “It’s perfect,” Starscream purred, arranging himself comfortably at Wheeljack’s side.

Wheeljack, having never watched the Stars of Vesper-Zeta himself, had no idea what to look for. He knew from his research that the lights were faint and distant, a slightly different color than the ones that normally existed in Cybertron’s sky. “You ever watched these before?” Wheeljack asked.

Starscream burrowed a little closer into his side. “No,” he said. “I emerged not long after them. The next time they came around, I was with Megatron.”

Wheeljack knew Megatron’s designation meant treading lightly. “In Kaon?” Most of the city-state, including its infamous gladiatorial pits, extended far underground.

“In Vos.” Starscream’s vocalizer was barely audible.

“Never pictured Megatron the type to vacation in Vos.”

Starscream smiled wanly. “No, but it was ripe for conquering.” Starscream’s optics dropped from the sky. “He used to be a poet, before the war. It should’ve been no surprise he favored poetic justice.”

Starscream, for all his love of his old home, never spoke much about it. He expressed his devotion in short sentiments, too brief to let any anguish show through his mask. Wheeljack tried not to press about it, much in the same way he tried not to ask many questions whenever Megatron’s designation came up. He knew the Decepticons razed Vos as they had Praxus.

The jet’s voice was lighter when he said, “Do you know the story behind the Stars?”

“Never stuck with me,” Wheeljack admitted.

“If you believe the old legends, Vesper and Zeta were the first two Seekers to set up a base in what would become Vos. The royal lineage claimed to trace all the way back to them.” Starscream’s optics went upward. “The third of their trine had died. They saw the stars shooting across the sky one night in Iacon and decided to follow them. A group of mechs set out to see where they led, but only the Seekers were fast enough to see where the stars vanished from sight. The stars’ blue light shone like a spark, and they thought they had found where their third had disappeared – in the sky above them, still flying. They swore beneath its light to never leave each other.”

“That’s sweet,” Wheeljack murmured.

Starscream’s look was impassive, something Wheeljack associated with memories of his past. “Vos stood for exactly millions of years before its end began on the same day it emerged.”

Wheeljack’s spark sunk. “The Siege of Vos started this night.”

“Poetic justice,” echoed Starscream hollowly.

Wheeljack started to feel cold, even with Starscream’s jet engine rumbling against his side. He shifted uneasily. “We can go back inside,” he said, quiet. “You don’t have to stay out here and—”

“No.” Starscream’s voice was curt.

“Star, you don’t gotta sit out here just because—”

“No,” Starscream said again, more insistently. He stubbornly crossed his servos in front of his chassis. “I missed part of my culture for four million years. I won’t let him destroy this too.”

Wheeljack allowed himself to relax a little. Starscream’s stubbornness was, after all, the stuff of legends. Ratchet might have argued Wheeljack had the same problem. Ironhide said they were too similar in some ways.

Starscream adjusted himself at Wheeljack’s side, resting his frame against Wheeljack while his wings spanned out wide behind them; Wheeljack could feel their faint twitches with the breeze.

The Stars of Vesper-Zeta began to flicker overhead.


End file.
